Our Time
by xoxcrescentmoonxox
Summary: Parvati measures her life in school years. But her love – that she measures in summers, in the times when it’s just her and Padma. Forever. Oneshot for the Reviews Lounge Summer Collaboration.


**Written for the Reviews Lounge Summer Collaboration (linked in my profile). Just claim a character and right a oneshot about them using the prompt word _summer. _(this is a rather literal interpretation.) If you enjoyed this oneshot, there are a bunch of really great ones posted together on the RL profile that you should definitely check out. **

**Thanks to Avalonfreak for helping with my online translation begot few words of Hindi; hopefully this is a little more correct. And, of course, the characters are JKR's. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Parvati measures her life in school years. First year, Sorting; second year, magic; third year, boys, and so on. But her love – that she measures in summers, in the times when it's just her and Padma.

Forever.

* * *

Before Hogwarts, summers aren't important. The girls are just PadmandParvati in the heat instead of PadmandParvati in the cold. But once Parvati is in Gryffindor while her sister is in Ravenclaw, summer is their only time for their two halves to combine back into a whole.

* * *

The summer after first year is the Summer of Wonder. Wonder, why they're in two separate houses.

"It's not like I'm really brave, or you're really smart," Parvati says, leaning back against the scratchy boards of their porch swing.

Padma smiles. "I know. We're identical."

"I know." Parvati pulls a stand of her hair from her bun, then a similar sized one from Padma's. Absentmindedly she combines them, then groups them into three and begins to braid.

"Maybe –" Padma's mouth twists. "Maybe we should have been planned ahead what we'd be thinking. Like, were you telling the hat you weren't _so_ scared of the Sorting, or thinking to yourself that you'd just counted, and there were exactly eleven grey haired teacher?"

Parvati tugs on their hair, laughing. "Pads, is that what you were telling it? And anyway, I think it looks at more than our immediate thoughts. Because –" She grins at her sister. "Because all I could think was how badly I had to pee."

Although she laughs for a little while, it doesn't take Padma long to become sober again. She fingers the strands of their hair, woven together so neither girl can tell whose is whose.

"So why," she asks, "Did the Sorting Hat decide you were braver?"

* * *

The summer after second year is the Summer of Joy. Joy, because after two years of separation and one giant snake, they are still safe, and still PadmandParvati like when they were ten.

Because this is the last time they'll have together before they're grown teenagers, they run wild that summer; do things they never would have dreamed of even a month before at school. They make fortresses and secret passageways; become princesses that live in ivory towers and sorceresses that slay dragons. And on the last day, they sit facing each other in a small clearing and make a pact.

"Spirits of the wood, snakes of the undergrowth," Parvati intones. When Padma giggles, she kicks her ankle. "Shush. This is how you make a pact stick."

"Fine." Padma rolls her eyes. "Spirits of the wood, snakes of the undergrowth," she repeats, "Hear our call."

Parvati nods approvingly. "We, the great temptresses of the forest, commonly known as Parvati and Padma Patil, would like to make a vow." She squeezes Padma's hand to get her to take over.

"Um . . . we pledge that, while autumn, winter, and spring may belong to the rest of our lives, summer is only our's."

"And only grievous sorrow, woe, and death can change these words," finishes Parvati dramatically. By now, the sun is setting, and the girls have to go inside to get ready for the train tomorrow. So with dark hair streaming behind them as they run, they leave their realm of dragons and fairy tales, set to return to the reality of stone castles and magic.

* * *

The summer after third year is the Summer of Dreams. Dreams, of boys and friendship and the future. Parvati dreams in tea leaves, crystal balls, and prophecies of doom as Professor Trelawney instructed her, while Padma's are riddles and unsolvable questions, as Ravenclaw has hardened her to consider.

Parvati dreams about her friend Dean Thomas; of the slightly older Lee Jordan; even occasionally of Draco Malfoy, purely on looks. But most of all, she dreams of Harry Potter.

(He is only a dream. She knows that Dean is the one attainable boy of her lot, and that hoping for Lee, Draco, or especially Harry is a waste of imagination.)

Padma tells her sister that she dreams about Michael Corner. She paints such a vivid picture of his chestnut waves, single dimple, and bright blue eyes that Parvati never suspects that these are all lies to protect her.

(Like her sister, Padma dreams of untidy black hair; an oddly shaped scar and flashing green eyes. But she knows that Harry will never go for a girl he's barely spoken once to. The best chance she has with him is if he and Parvati date, and he mistakes Padma for her twin.)

But the holiday continues, and as June stretches into July stretches into August, those dreams run dry with no new encounters to fuel them. It's a blessing for the girl's imaginations when they return to Platform 9¾ in September and are able to re-realize the sparks that carried into that summer.

* * *

The summer after fourth year is the Summer of Discovery. Discovery, because in addition to the increased knowledge of the Wizarding world they'd acquired with the Triwizard Tournament, their mother announces that they'll go on holiday to Muggle India so the girls can learn that side of their heritage.

Parvati's favorite part of the vacation are the nights. They're staying in Calcutta, in a cramped hotel that overlooks a large _bazaar_. Once their mother falls asleep in the next room, the girls ease open the window and pull themselves onto the flat roof, Parvati climbing ahead to help her less nimble sister grab onto the gutter.

When they look up, there's no sign of civilization, but constellations dance across the sky. Parvati comments on the first night that the four stars zigzagging like a bird's wing foretell sudden disaster – but Padma, laughing, tells her that it's only Cassiopeia, and she should stop listening to Professor Trelawney.

The next night, they make up their own constellations: Twin Temptresses, Snake Charmer, Summer Sandal, and White Sari.

"Why white?" Parvati asks.

Padma shrugs. "What color would _you _call the stars?"

"Hey, you're the Ravenclaw!" Parvati flips over on her belly and peers into the market stalls below. After a couple seconds, Padma joins her.

The _bazaar_ is every bit as bustling as the sky was expansionless. Even in the dark, many stalls are still erect; a place for con men and soothsayers to sell their wares without being ousted by the _devanagari_.

"Come on!" Parvati nudges her sister. "Let's get our fortunes told!"

Padma sighs. "'Vati, it's you who believes in all that, not me."

"All the more reason; you can hold my hand when they say death is near."

"_Fine_." Padma huffs her breath out loudly, but grins a little, and heads for the fire escape ladder ahead of her sister.

Parvati dislikes the way the men leer at her and Padma as they weave their way through the darkened maze of stalls, wearing only their pyjama camisole sets. She's relieved when they find a tent, properly patterned and mysterious looking, that's also slightly out of the way.

"Good day, my dears," croons a wrinkled old woman in a heavily accented voice as they pull the flap back. "Or should I say, good night?" She frowns up at the top of the tent to the sky as if it had disrupted her greeting. Padma rolls her eyes, and even Parvati can't quite keep from giggling.

"You'll want to know your fortunes?" she asks, lighting a stick of incense. The girls nod, and Parvati pushes Padma forwards.

"Her first!" she says, dropping several _rupees_ into the fortuneteller's hands.

"Ah, a born leader," the woman says, drawing the folds of her sari around her and motioning to Padma. Parvati blushes a deep red as her sister sits down.

The soothsayer takes one of Padma's hands in her two, then turns it palm-up, tracing the lines with her index finger. "The line of your heart . . . long, wavy; free like your own emotions. The line of your life swoops across itself . . ." The fortune teller frowns briefly, then returns to Padma's hand. "And the line of your head is crisscrossed with that of your life.

"You are young, happy, and beautiful now; as so you will be forever. Immortalized – by your _death_." She leans back and closes her eyes as the twins stare first at her, then at each other, in horror.

Without looking at them, the soothsayer raises her hands. "What, you think I have more? No! That's all. Get out. _Jao_!"

"Come on!" cries Parvati, taking her stunned sister's arm and, shaking, pulling her back through the marketplace to the hotel. Once they're safe on the roof again, Padma turns to her sister, who is as pale now as she was moment ago.

"Come on, 'Vati," Padma says, giving Parvati's hand a squeeze. "Doom and gloom. How is that any different from what Trelawney predicts for all of you?" She laughs nervously.

Parvati frowns, a thousand answers running through her mind. Trelawney's not as foreboding. Her predictions happen in a sunny classroom, not a darkened tent. She has bat glasses and silly dangling chains. But there's only one important reason. "Harry and Neville and Seamus and even Lavender could be gone and I'd still be whole. Without you – I'm missing myself."

"Well then –" Padma pauses, purple nightdress limp around her figure in the humid air. "I guess we'll have to go together."

"You're right." Parvati pushes her hair back from her face. "I promise."

Padma turns to her sister, stricken. "No, I didn't mean it like that! Besides, that soothsayer didn't know anything."

Parvati swallows hard. "Well, good. Then I won't have to."

"Parvati . . ."

"Padma . . . wouldn't you do the same thing?"

It's impossible for Padma to keep from nodding. _Yes._

* * *

The summer after fifth year is the summer that's wrong. Wrong, because Lavender has finally wheedled Parvati in allowing her to stay for a while.

At first, Parvati thinks it's like having two sisters instead of one. But as days go on, Lavender talks more – so Padma stops talking. Lavender giggles more – so Padma stops giggling. Lavender stays up later – so Padma goes to bed with the sun.

As for Parvati, she wishes she'd never persuaded her sister to let her break the pact of three years ago. The night Lavender leaves, Parvati follows Padma into her room, then sits down on her sister's blue and purple bedspread, picking nervously at the embroidery.

"Sorry," she says, biting her lip.

"For what?" replies Padma, tonelessly.

Parvati sighs. "The whole past month."

"It's okay," Padma says, without much conviction. "It's just, you have nine months with her. Why'd she have to take any of your three with me?"

"Because . . ." Parvati reaches over and pinches her sister's arm. "Because I wasn't blessed with those Ravenclaw brains that realized it was a bad idea."

Padma glances down at her sister, splayed on the bedspread and already at ease again. Then she thinks of herself, slightly angry with her twin, but even more with herself, for letting Parvati make yet another decision for the both of them. _Yes,_ she thinks sadly, _These Ravenclaw brains certainly are a blessing_.

* * *

The summer after sixth year is the Summer of Hope. Hope, because even though Dumbledore is dead, the Dark Lord is on the rise, and Hogwarts is no longer so safe, the sisters are still young, happy, and confident that he'll be brought down soon.

(What neither remembers is that two years ago, an Indian soothsayer described them similarly. If they had thought back to that, they might have been less brash; less assured.)

However, determined to make up for the disappointment of last summer, Parvati and Padma do everything together that they can think of, not limiting themselves to their house, their woods, or even their town. It doesn't matter yet to them that shops are being boarded up, pubs shut down, and wards placed because of Voldemort. They are perfectly happy with their new Apparation licenses, taking day trips to the sea, meeting Dean Thomas, Michael Corner, and even Lavender Brown in Muggle London; happy with once, on Parvati's urging, pranking Seamus Finnegan.

Yes, their summer is far distant from the struggle of the rest of the wizarding world. If they had known, those months, that Michael would be leaving school soon and Dean not coming back at all, they might have cherished those visits more. If any crystal ball could have foretold the fall of the Ministry, the corruption of Hogwarts, the coming of the Carrows – maybe they would have listened.

But instead they're granted a reprieve from the danger during those hot months. And on September first when the train pulls up and the sisters part to go to their separate compartments, both leave the same thought unsaid.

_We will never have summer like this again._

* * *

The next summer comes after seventh year. After the war.

After Padma.

For three months, Parvati is lost, flailing around in dark water that pulls her deeper the more she struggles. Every familiar landmark of home she passes has a memory attached to it. Each glance in the mirror gouges at her heart. She pulls small strands from her bun then reaches for her sister's hair to braid with it, too late remembering that it's not there.

The soothsayer didn't lie: Padma is forever young, happy, and beautiful. It's Parvati who lied. For she is still on the earth, still far away from her sister.

Every night Parvati whispers to her in the darkness, telling herself that her sister is still in the room across the hall. She tries to make Padma understand her wonder, her joy, her dreams, her discoveries, and her hope, but all of that winds back to memories. Because those are all she cares about, now.

One night Paravati unconsciously goes into Padma's room instead of her own. No one has changed it; it's as it has been forever: blue and purple bedspread, tall wardrobe in the corner, gauzy white curtains. As nothing has been removed, she slips into her sister's purple pyjamas, leaving her similar orange ones discarded on the floor. Then she sits at the vanity; picks up her Padma's hairbrush and unbraids her hair, retying it with one of Padma's blue clips to replace her own.

When she looks in the mirror, it's like talking to her sister.

"Padma?" Parvati reaches towards the reflection and touches the cold reflection.

"Padma, now I know why I'm not in Ravenclaw."

The girl in the mirror begins to cry.

"I'm too stupid to have gone with you that night."

Now the mirror-girl stretches both her hands to Parvati, and their fingers join against the hard, glassy division.

"But I shouldn't be in Gryffindor either," Parvati confesses. "I'm too cowardly to keep my promise and come back to you now." She shudders; chokes out a long, gasping sob – and so does Padma in the mirror.

"Please," Parvati implores, swallowing a sob, "Don't leave me."

The reflection grows blurred from tears, and the more Parvati reaches; the more she entreats, the more her sister seems to dissolve before her eyes. Parvati rips out the blue hair clip and throws it at the mirror; tears away her sister's pyjamas – and suddenly, Padma has just vanished. Only Parvati's own reflection remains.

"You said we'd go together! You lied to me!" Parvati grabs the lamp from her sister's bedside table and heaves it at the mirror, watching cracks begin to spider-web across it. Then she knocks everything else off the vanity table and plunges the heel of her hand into the center of the fissure. When it comes out bloodied, she feels no pain.

As she destroys the mirror, Parvati destroys everything that she and her sister have built up over the past seven years. She sends their wonder, joy, dreams, discoveries, and hope cascading to the floor together with the silvery slivers.

With the destruction of that legacy, she shatters all of the empty holidays to come. For with only a half of their whole, summers of PadmandParvati will become summers of Parvati.

Forever.

(And that's no summer at all.)


End file.
